#pride bingo

[justcallmedom31]

[cherry-wavesz2]

Day 2 of Pride Month Bingo by @/nightmareisacoffeedemon

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you can use these with credit !!

[genderthings]

Pride Bingo interest check!

This year I'd like to focus more on gender identities and themes, meaning the prompt list will be shorter. Also, the character prompts would be broader, like: 'background character' or 'adult character'.

For those ambitious enough I may make the option to get two separate bingo cards, one with the gender prompts and one with characters, to mix and match between them.

Cards would be 3x3 like last year. One prompt from each category per work (so 2 prompts if one is a gender and the other is a character).

Would you be down for another round of Pride Bingo?

yes, as a writer/artist

yes, as a reblogger

not this year

Voting ended onMar 16

check out last year's masterpost

[kymera219]

This year I've decided to participate in the @writersmonth Pride Bingo! I'll edit this post as I complete the squares

Old Habits Die Hard (But Assholes Die Harder)

Bingo prompt -Old-Stargent

Chris had been made to feel helpless all of his life by his own father and he's never been brave enough to fight against it, even for the boy he loves.

That all changes when Gerard kidnaps Stiles

The Hunter and the Wolf

Bingo prompt -duality- Petopher

A poetic refrain about the dual nature between an Argent and a Hale....and how they love each other anyway

Vengeance is Mine Sayeth the Spark

Bingo prompt -representation -Steter

Scott gets a rather shocking surprise in the preserve

When is A Monster Not A Monster(Oh, When You Love It)

Bingo prompt - violet/spirit - Steter

Peter dreaded the words on his arm and feared he'd do something horrible to his soulmate because of them.

Stiles had kind of forgotten about his words in the wake of the supernatural mess his life had become

Their meeting will change everything

Friends Don't Let Friends Date Dumbasses(They Murder Them Instead)

Bingo prompt -flag- Steter/ (Scott/Theo)

Scott can't see how terrible his new boyfriend is, so Stiles and Peter resolve to take care of the situation...permanently

Dressed Like That

Bingo prompt -truth-Sterek

An alternative take on the conversation in S2 where Stiles's dad tells him he can't be gay "dressed like that"

Crime and Predjudice

Bingo prompt -pride-steter

When a spell goes wrong and Stiles is too stubborn and proud to admit to Deaton that he needs help, he enlists his friend (and potential love interest) Peter to help him rob the man instead

Love Looks Not with the Eyes( But with the Ripped Out Hearts of Your Enemies)

Bingo prompt -temptation-Stalion

Alternative version of S2/S3

Deucalion finds something very interesting out in the woods

A Purr-fect Predicament

Bingo prompt -turquoise/magic-Steter

When Scott annoys a group of witches he and Peter are trying to negotiate with, they hit them both with a curse that causes hilarious (and exasperating in Stiles opinion) side effects

[fellowshipofthefics]

HAPPY PRIDE, FELLOWSHIP!

June is truly a beautiful month that celebrates all sorts of love. What better way to show that off than with a bingo board?! Below is the board that has a variety of sexualities, as well as some activities that are near and dear to LGBTQIA+ community!

Many of these can still be used in canon-verse! They don't necessarily have to be modern universe. Just have fun with them!

And of course don’t forget to send in your fics to us when you are done so we can put it in our queue using this form! Be creative!!

[mugloversonly]

Milkshakes?

For @genderthings pride bingo prompt "hair dye" | Rating: G | Ship: Eddie Munson x Argyle | wc: 866 summary: While hanging out with the older teens, Eddie and Argyle braid each other's hair. AO3

The older teens of the party gathered in Steve's living room, passing a few Cali joints around in a circle.

As Eddie took a hit of the joint, his eyelids felt heavy. Argyle’s shit was way stronger than the skunk weed he used to peddle.

A movie played in the background but he wasn't paying attention. He couldn't even tell you what genre it was. There was something else on his mind, or someone else.

Argyle sat across from him, looking floaty and peaceful. Eddie wanted to climb into his lap, he looked so comfortable. But he resisted; he had a different goal in mind right now. With a lot more grace than should be possible given how high he was, Eddie rose to his feet and ambled over to the Californian.

The man in question followed him across the room with his eyes, a cute but confused pout on his lips. Eddie swung around the couch until he was standing behind him,so close Argyle had to crane his neck back to see him.

“What's up buttercup?” He asked, slow and syrupy.

“Can I braid your hair?” Eddie murmured. He hoped the gooeyness in his voice would get blamed on the weed. But the smirk on Nancy's face told him a more sober group would sense his crush.

“Sure my dude.” Argyle smiled and laid back against the couch, flipping his long hair over his shoulder. As Eddie combed his hair through the tresses, he gasped when he realized the underside of Argyle's hair was dyed a deep green.

“Wow.” He mumbled as he got to work. He split the man’s hair into two big sections, finger combing the fly aways into place, and securing one side with a hair tie.

“Can you turn your head, please?” He asked.

“No prob, Eds.”

Argyle wasn’t the first person to call him Eds, not by a long shot. But it still made Eddie blush something fierce. He wanted to blame the weed, but he knew that wasn’t the case.

“Your hair is so soft.” Eddie sighed dreamily as he began a dutch braid. The green dye weaved flawlessly with the black of Argyle’s natural hair and Eddie was entranced.

“Thanks, my dude.” Argyle murmured. “I bet yours is too. Can I braid it when you’re done?” Eddie froze in shock for a moment before resuming.

“S-sure. I haven’t washed it in a few days though.” Eddie admitted, suddenly ashamed of his hygiene. Argyle raised the hand holding the joint up so Eddie could take a hit and held it still as Eddie pulled in the smoke.

“That’s okay. Still looks beautiful.” Argyle smiled when Eddie coughed out the lungful he took in. “Careful there, sweets.”

Argyle’s called Eddie nicknames before, but this is the first time they’ve been flirty. Eddie looked around the room and made eye contact with Jonathan who gave him a big thumbs up while making a kissy face. Eddie's already flushed cheeks burn even more.

“Your shit is strong, that's all.” Eddie said as nonchalantly as he could while securing the first braid with a hair tie. He gestured for Argyle to turn the other way and began working through the next one.

“I make you nervous don't I?” Argyle asked so quietly even Eddie could barely hear him. He gulped but decided to be brave.

“A little.” He admitted.”You're just so cool.” Argyle chuckled lightly and glanced at Eddie the best he could without moving his head.

“You're like the sweetest dude I've ever met, you know that?” Argyle killed the rest of the joint. “When Jon introduced us I thought you'd just be a guy I knew. But now we're like close buds.”

“Yeah, buds.” Eddie sighed as he finished off the second braid. He stepped back so they could switch places. Argyle swiftly finger combed the biggest knots out of Eddie's thick mane with practiced strokes.

Eddie glanced around and noticed everyone else was kind of ignoring them. They all had their eyes on the TV or they were chatting. They were in their own little bubble and Eddie was going to take advantage of that.

“Do you, maybe…” Eddie began, losing courage but still determined. “Can I, I mean would you want to…” a finger’s shoved in his face to silence him.

“Heard there's a great burger place in town. Milkshakes that are like stupendous.” Argyle smiled for once looking shy. His hands didn't stop though, soon Eddie's hair was secured into a thick fishtail braid.

“They are pretty good. I have to warn you though, I’m a dip a fry in the milkshake guy.” He flipped the braid over his shoulder and twirled the end.

“That's cool, I’m a firm believer in the savory sweet.”

Eddie flushed as Argyle gazed at him. It's a look he'd seen on people when they looked at his friends, but he's never had someone direct it at him.

“You free tomorrow night?” Eddie bit his lip in anticipation.

“For you? I can be. I'll pick you up at 5?” Argyle leaned toward him. With his last ounce of bravery, Eddie darted forward, pressing a kiss to Argyle's cheek.

“It's a date.”

tags

@katyawriteswhump

buy me a coffee

[batpham-discord-highlights]

Happy Pride! 🌈🏳‍🌈

Hello everyone! Since it’s Pride Month, we at the Batpham Server decided to do a small something to celebrate!

We decided to post a Pride themed Bingo sheet, along with some prompts, to make our already incredibly, wonderfully queer space just that much queerer.

ALL ART IS WELCOME! WRITING, PLAYLISTS, EDITS, DRAWINGS, YOU NAME IT!

Any fics written for the bingo, these prompts, or that is just wonderfully queer and you want to show it off, can go in this ao3 collection moderated by our own Batpham Server Mods:

>> AO3 Collection &lt;<

The collection will not close as June may be the month we celebrate but pride doesn’t stop there!!

As usual we are a dpxdc themed blog and server, but DC or DP only fics are more than welcome in celebration!

TAG TO USE

#DPXDCPride2023

Happy creating!

[i-did-not-mean-to]

can we get some Curumo x Aiwendil for the pride bingo?💕

I'm thinking gay rep/coming out/first date, maybe demisexual or demiromantic Curumo, also proud parent Aulë and/or Yavanna🏳️‍🌈☺️

Of course, my dear friend...

The Burning Bush

Words: 2.3k

Characters: Aiwendil x Curumo (Yavanna x Aulë), Background Angbang

Warnings: I have no experience with writing a demi-character, so this is a shot in the dark...

The first indication Curumo got of how different this day was going to be was the broad, knowing grin on Aulë’s face as he stormed into the forge, uncharacteristically late and a little flushed. His apprentices guessed—quite correctly—that it had been his revered wife who had kept him and avoided making any comment that might have ruined his mood.

The next clue was the insistent chirping of birds just outside—usually, the stench of fire and the loud ringing of hot steel being hammered into shape made the sensitive beasts flee as fast and as far as they could.

Nevertheless, he was entirely focused on his work and on the delicately interwoven design he had been working on in secret for so long; this time, he was sure, he would surpass Mairon and impress their master with the undeniable genius and quality of his craft.

“Curumo,” Aulë called as he walked along the workstations slowly, inspecting every single object his apprentices were working on. “I think someone is waiting anxiously to speak to you.”

Instantly, the young Maia’s eyes flitted to his rival—Mairon was a beguiling and annoying mystery to him—but his peer didn’t waste a single thought or glance on someone he deemed to be so woefully inferior. Rumour had it that he had found someone who had intrigued and interested him enough to get him to drop his haughty façade and invest a little more than his usual sneer into their communication.

Curumo could not deny that the mere thought made him feel weak and nauseous with envy—had Curumo himself been different, he would readily have believed and accepted that he was infatuated with Mairon, but, as things were, he was not sure if it was not merely his own pride and insecurity that drove him to desperately crave the approbation, admiration, and even affection of the Maia Aulë treasured and respected the most.

In a way, Curumo didn’t want to have Mairon or even be him—he wanted to surpass him, he yearned to humble him, and a wicked part relished in the idea of making the proud, arrogant, aloof bully bow to his skill and authority.

“Curumo?” Their master tapped a pair of heavy pincers against his workbench impatiently. “Don’t you want to go out and check on this? I’d rather not have you distracted at work.”

Bristling, Curumo wanted to bring to Aulë’s attention that he had had no prior knowledge of any interviews he was meant to attend and thus could not be discountenanced by their imminent occurrence, but he simply nodded and kept his peace as the whole forge had turned to him in curiosity.

Curumo liked being the centre of attention; of course, he would largely have preferred to awe his fellows with the supremacy of his output in the forge, but he was not above taking this moment in the spotlight when it was handed to him and so, he held his head high as he strode out of the workshop at a steady pace to deal with this unwelcome interruption.

“I am going,” Aiwendil muttered, half-heartedly swatting away the birds and other critters that dogged his every step to make sure that he could not turn around and dash off to hide in the deepest parts of the forest.

He had sought the counsel of his Lady Yavanna who had encouraged him warmly to seek out a private conversation with the object of all his desires.

For many cycles of the flourishing shrubs in their care, Aiwendil had been nurturing a seedling of stubborn hope and fragile affection within his own heart, sheltering it from the blazing fires of the forges and the icy winds of the turning seasons.

True to his nature, he watched and waited, unsure whether the tender sprout would find fertile soil, enough sun, and clement rains to keep it thriving and growing.

Many a time, he had almost hoped that adverse conditions would stifle it or that it would wither on its own. This state of nervousness and anticipation was embarrassing and distracting, and it would surely have been best for everyone involved if it just faltered and dissolved like premature blossoms nipped in the bud by a sudden cold.

Much too quickly though, that nascent crush took over more of his conscious thoughts than he wanted to admit.

Moreover, he couldn’t deny that the constant worry sapped him of all energy which made him feel excessively guilty as he owed it to Lady Yavanna to pour his heart, soul, and essence into their tremendously important work.

How humiliating it had been, at first, when she herself had called him to her side so she could investigate why one of her favourite Maiar had seemed so distracted and mysteriously saddened to her lately.

In halting words of intermingled apology and confession, Aiwendil had ultimately taken heart and had entrusted his most shameful and yet most cherished secret to her benevolent wisdom.

“These smiths always have their heads in some sulphurous cloud,” she had joked while pruning a young tree that—much like Aiwendil’s love—had grown too fast and too recklessly. “You have to lure him out of the forge and ask him directly whether he wants to accompany you to Manwë’s celebration.”

She had shrugged indulgently. “Being a smidgen oblivious to these things is, unfortunately, more common than you would believe—even amongst the most powerful and wise.”

Far was it from Aiwendil to doubt his Lady’s words or refuse her sage counsel and so, he had summoned all his courage and asked her leave to walk over to where Curumo was certainly absorbed by his daily tasks to offer him that fragile, tender-leafed heart of his without subterfuge or flowery dissimulation.

In spite of this decisive burst of initiative, doubt still gnawed at him from the inside like the pervasive rot that some dark power had implanted into the roots of their most beloved trees to weaken and fell them without a single blade having to be lifted against them.

While Aiwendil loved with all the reckless fervour of ivy sprawling across every space it could encroach upon, Curumo had always struck him as distant and even cold.

His favour was given reluctantly and to a chosen few only.

Even though Aiwendil could hardly understand how such a thing could be possible and what tremendous control over mind and body such a stance must demand, he could respect and accept the reticent nature of one who seemed so fair and honourable in his starry eyes.

Great, imperious, and often impatient, Curumo had indeed proven to be a good friend and a wise counsellor—he knew many things and enjoyed the confidence and the trust of the Valar and did not hesitate to share his knowledge and insight with even the least articulate and studious of his peers.

Lately, Aiwendil had been able to make a few remarks that had been witty and pertinent enough to win him a fond smile or a conspiratorial wink from Curumo and—shameful as it was to admit as much—these rare moments of complicity had been enough to coax the hesitant buds of his own infatuation into full bloom.

Every kind word, every approving smile, and every shared joke watered the frail growth until its vines constricted Aiwendil’s heart almost painfully.

“You can do it,” his faithful friends chirped and rumbled beside him, “you can fan those dignified embers into roaring flame. Your patience and benevolent modesty must prevail upon his own secret misgivings or doubts. Worry not, we are with you.”

Thus encouraged and supported, Aiwendil stopped outside the forge just as Curumo strode out, his face a mask of scowling disapproval and haughty impatience.

“Hello,” Aiwendil squeaked, betraying his nerves by the way his voice cracked in the middle of the word.

“Good day to you,” Curumo replied with a minute frown, “has something happened?”

He knew the small, furtive Maia to be exceedingly discreet and unobtrusive, so naturally, he was worried that some major catastrophe or emergency had brought him so far from his Lady’s sphere of influence,

“No…” The reply was slightly delayed and definitely hesitant. “It’s about the festival.” “What about it?” Even as he spoke the words and saw Aiwendil’s sweet face fall drastically, Curumo became aware of how harsh and querulous his question must have sounded. “Is there a problem? Do you need help with anything?”

“No.” This time, Aiwendil’s answer was fast and hard as a stone cast with all his might against an unyielding wall. “I…I wanted to ask you whether you would like to accompany me.”

“We are all expected to appear,” Curumo commented uncertainly, “and I’d surely never neglect my duties by not showing my face at such a momentous occasion.”

A pained groan escaped the other, making Curumo all the more anxious—he should have been in the forge, working on his project, instead of making a fool of himself by entirely missing the point if Aiwendil’s indulgent distress was anything to go by.

“Verily, it surely is so,” Aiwendil conceded, “but I wanted to invite you to spend the day by my side and share a meal with me, apart from our peers and friends maybe?”

Curumo had heard of such meetings—Mairon, it was said, indulged in them quite frequently—but he had never expected to partake in that particular kind of unnecessary folly himself. As he looked into the huge, hopeful eyes of someone who only knew selfless care and patient kindness, he found that he was not categorically opposed to the idea after all.

“Do you know what you are insinuating, little one?” he inquired, just to make sure that he had not, yet again, misinterpreted the situation by letting his own doubts and desires override his better judgement and knowledge.

Blushing, Aiwendil nodded slowly. This was the first time that he had ever dared to make such a request and he was terrified of the implications and potential consequences, but, now that the moment of truth had come, he stood his ground stubbornly.

He was very aware of the risk he was taking by petitioning someone whose form was too similar to the one he had chosen for himself while their essence was just a smidgen too divergent from his own sweet, gentle nature.

If Curumo was to react negatively to this invitation, Aiwendil might well be ostracised, punished, or worse for his trespass against the customs and unwritten rule of their kind—it followed quite naturally that, with everything that was on the line for him, he desperately hoped and wished that this would not be the case.

“So be it then,” Curumo heard himself say; a ripple of surprise and discomfort disturbed the calm self-control of his mien as he realised that he had not consciously decided to accept this invitation before the words had left his tingling lips.

Maybe this was a petulant attempt to show Mairon that he really didn’t care about the secret rendezvous the dismissive fire spirit apparently attended, or it was a despairing effort to overcome the natural disinterest that was as much part of his innermost truth as his sharp, calculating mind or his powerful, persuasive voice.

Either way, he had agreed to spend the day with one he thought of with a strange, melancholic mix of unfair disdain and unbridled envy more often than he let anybody, least at all Aiwendil himself, know.

Aiwendil caressed where others struck and his kindness was as enduring and steadfast as rock and iron—at first glance, his effaced, nervous way of comporting himself might make anyone believe that he was weak-willed and charmless, but that was not so.

Curumo was ashamed of how long it had taken him to realise just how precious that little wood creature was; as a matter of fact, that initial realisation had only led to a slew of others—all of them humbling and none of them humiliating—which he earnestly treasured and recalled whenever he felt his own pride and vanity get out of control within his untameable breast.

Far from being dull, Aiwendil—once he had gotten comfortable with another soul—could reveal and share fascinating secrets about the world they lived in and his benevolent awareness of all things living and thriving had oft nourished Curumo’s uninterrupted musings about existential questions for many a mingling.

“I…Oh, all right,” the young Maia now stammered, his face lighting up with a glow that seemed to combine the familiar light of the Trees and yet sublimated it into a unique gleam that could not be found anywhere else.

“You are aware that I am not…I am not used to this kind of togetherness. I do not want to disappoint you,” Curumo exclaimed passionately—how could he clothe into words those elusive skills, demeanours, and instincts he suspected were underdeveloped or even entirely lacking in him if he had no way of knowing what the presence of those traits would even feel like?

“Worry not,” Aiwendil promised, laying a comforting, reassuring hand on Curumo’s shivering forearm. “All things grow according to their season, their kind, and their own undisclosed destiny—I know, respect, and welcome that. I’ll let you return to your work, and I’ll see you very soon, I hope.”

As if he was afraid that his courage would fail him, he sauntered away quickly, blending into the bushes surrounding the forge like one of the critters that followed him everywhere he went.

There were too many things Curumo didn’t know and couldn’t predict to count them, but—as his eyes followed Aiwendil until he could no longer make out anything other than the softly swaying leaves of the distant trees—he felt warm and comfortable and that had to be enough for now.

@fellowshipofthefics Here is my first entry for the June Pride Bingo :)

As always, lots of love from me and special thanks to @cilil for submitting this beautiful prompt!